What changed after I wrote the threesome essay is I feel less sure that threesome is possible. I’d love to live another 40 years, and I hope there’s lots of joy in my future.
But I realized that my spouse qualifies as a senior now, some places. His disabilities worsen, and mine do too–more pain, and less hope, honestly. Our household feels more needy. Like our needs are going up, while our power to attract is going down.
Also, dating can be such a shit show. Kissing a lot of frogs to find a monarch is exhausting! I feel less tolerant of that whole process of someone being on their best behavior for a few months, then revealing more and more of their dysfunction until I’m confused, then super squicked, and can’t do it anymore.
The last man I very much loved had communication issues and poor follow through that I couldn’t handle. Also, he didn’t want what we wanted. Sometimes he seemed to want to be our family member, but finally, he was a no.
I couldn’t continue pouring a ton of emotional resources into that relationship, when he gave much less than I did. He’s a very good person and full of brilliant life. But I couldn’t turn down my feelings and needs, to match his, so I was getting badly hurt. I couldn’t continue, though I still love him more than almost anything and anyone.
The person before was much younger, and they admitted a few months in that they had intentionally manipulated me, at the beginning. I got the feeling they saw the world as a huge online store. They look through human beings as products to choose from, try out, and discard.
I’d believed they were into community, love, and tenderness, based on what they told me at the beginning. But that was a facade to cover how they use people in a cold way and are really into money. They’re looking around for easy ways to get their ego stroked and belly fed, while giving / spending as little as possible.
I thought they were differently, strangely appealing. But their values are repulsively normal, despite their trans queer artistic charming beauty. I was confused by their performance, for more than half a year. Then we had a breakup process that took a while, where I tried a few different ways to change my needs and behaviors, until it was just clearly futile.
Then the guy before that was a full on sociopath. Praise God I got out of that alive. Thank you, queer Jesus!
Before that, wow, I lost my memory. I was so traumatized by the sociopath that my mind is a blank.
I guess the only other person we invited into our family was a good friend, around five years ago. She said no and is allergic to the city. I love her still, but we talk a lot less now.
Dating is stress, and I often feel like I can’t handle more stress in my life. I could go back on psych meds to get more stable-sedated, and then date? That sounds silly.
It’s never a good time to invite chaos. And the bipolar cocktail I was on for many years was really hard to get off. No way in hell do I want to go through that withdrawal again.
Maybe I will accept that our family is just the two of us. Or maybe one day, a friend will ask us, to be family. Or maybe we can live in more of a co-housing way and have semi-family, but physically nearby?
Friendship is confusing. I had very few friends, for most of my life. Mostly I didn’t know how to be social, so I hid out. Trauma plus autism plus anxiety and agoraphobia meant I was alone!
I’m glad to learn and grow, but I’m behind. Things I learned to do when I was 42 that others learned to do when they were 3 or 4–I have very little practice.
The essay was true, the night I wrote it, but like just about everything I write, it’s not in stone. I access my reality and tell it as well as I can, but the next day, things are often different. I’m in motion, and I’m honest.
So thank you for keeping in mind that you can’t know how I feel today based on something I said even yesterday. What changed can be everything. Thank you for understanding.